


The Hobbit and His Dragon

by MissWitchy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dragon Bond, Dragon Mating, Dreams and Nightmares, Evil Plans, Explicit Sexual Content, I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M, Magical Bond, Mpreg, Other, Thilbo, Totally twisting Tolkien for my own purposes, bagginshield, dragons!, hermaphroditic dragons, keepers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWitchy/pseuds/MissWitchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will the only Hobbit Keeper and the only Shire Dragon do when they discover they are meant for so much more the a simple hobbit life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A little History with Tea.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KkChibichop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KkChibichop/gifts).



> Hello Everyone, I hope you enjoy this tremendously. My muse is back so I will be posting this story as well as working on my Soulmate of a King fic.
> 
> I have the two most awesome people helping me with this. 
> 
> My FUCKING AMAZING and totally inspirational beta KkChibichop. Thank you sweety for letting me hound you and vent and toss ideas at you. You are truly AWESOME!!!
> 
> Also The most Talented editor a writer could have, Cycloudd. Thanks love for all your hard work and thanks for helping me make this thing enjoyably readable!
> 
> Alright, enough of all that :). You feedback would be much appreciated, I will be posting every Sunday. This is a WIP but I have several chapters already written so I should be able to keep ahead and not make you all wait for the next chapter. 
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to comment or look me up on Tumblr at MissWitchy14.tumblr.com and drop me a line.
> 
> Without further ado, here is chapter 1/Prologue.
> 
> xoxo
> 
> PS. Tags will be updated as we go along!!
> 
> EDIT: SOME TWEAKS WERE MADE. :)

**Prologue**

**A little History with Tea**

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Well, there actually lived two hobbits. Bungo and Belladonna Baggins. It was not a month after the young newly married Bagginses had moved into their beautiful smial at the end of Bagshot Row, when they received the most unusual visitor and life-changing gift.

The knock echoed loudly through the wood paneled halls, daring its inhabitants to ignore its presence. Belladonna rushed from the kitchen and her half kneaded bread dough to answer the door.

“Who could be visiting at this hour of the morning,” she groused under her breath. It wasn’t even six in the morning!

After giving her hands one last wipe on her floured apron sighing heavily at the fact that she hadn’t thought to remove it, Belladonna tugged the round green door open a touch more forceful than was strictly necessary. Outside the door stood an old man wrapped in layers of gray wool and cotton exposing only his eyes and large nose, obviously trying to keep out the late December morning’s wintry bite. A large pointy hat graced his head. Belladonna may not have known who this stranger was, but she sure as anything was not going to let him stand on the stoop and freeze to death.

“Come in, come in. Quickly now before all the heat escapes,” she said urgently, but kindly. Bella led him into the front room, thanking her stars that she had thought to light the fire as soon as she had got up. She settled him in the armchair closest to the heat before rushing off to pour her guest a cup of ginger tea. Bella sighed in passing at the abandoned mound of dough that graced her kitchen table as she hurried out of the room with her best china and tray. A respectable hobbit never served guests from the everyday china especially if they were strangers.

On re-entering the front room, Bella found that the old man had unwound himself from his wrappings and was now sitting comfortably, legs stretched out to their full length. And wasn’t he just the tallest being she had ever seen! She gently placed the tray on a small table that sat close by for just such purposes. Handing the man his saucer and cup, Bella sat primly on the edge of the opposite armchair, hands folded in her lap as she tried to keep from fidgeting.

The man took what seemed like forever to just finish his first sip of the steaming brew. Bella cleared her throat softly, hoping to speed the man along. Briefly she thought of waking her husband but decided against it. He still had a bit of the smial to put the finishing touches on so he would be extra tired.

“I’m sorry, sir, who are you?”  Bella asked trying her best to not sound hostile.

The old man chuckled loudly, cutting the silence like a knife. “Oh, my dear Belladonna. You do not remember me, do you?” Even with his tired, kind smile, his eyes twinkled with hidden glee and maybe even a little mischief.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” Bella replied with a slight tilt of her head, dark auburn ringlets falling over her shoulder and a small furrow forming on her brow. “Should I?”

“Oh my dear girl. You know my name though you do not remember that I belong to it,” He said with another chuckle.

Belladonna could only look at him with a confused and befuddled expression. What was this old coot carrying on about?

“ I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means…me!” The old man…Gandalf… exclaimed with a dramatic wave of his hand.

That name did ring a small bell in the back of Bella’s mind, but at the moment she couldn’t figure out why. It took several minutes of her doing nothing more than staring at the old man’s face before her own face shifted into delighted recognition.

“You’re the wizard who often visited my father, the Old Took and had the most excellent fireworks!” Bella stated with a bright smile. “I had no idea you were still around these parts.”

“And where else should I be?” Gandalf asked with a glare. Bella could see there was no heat in it so she just gave him a cheeky smile in return.

“Well, at least you know me,” he said, seeming to concede the point. “That’s more than I can say for most.”

Bella sat quietly, hoping he would continue with whatever it was that had brought him to her door. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?”

Gandalf took another slow sip of his tea, leaned back further in the soft armchair and gazed thoughtfully into the crackling flames of the fire. Bella looked on anxiously, a flutter of anticipation making itself known in her stomach.

“What do you know of Dragons?” the old man asked in a somber tone, shifting his eyes from the fire to meet Bella’s wide hazel orbs.

She tried her hardest not to squirm in her seat, but felt she hardly succeeded. “Not much I’m afraid.” Bella lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, leaning forward and looking around as if to make sure no one was near. “We Hobbits do our best to keep such things out of polite conversation.” She sat back in her seat and watched him with a weary eye.

A raised bushy eyebrow was all she received in reply.

“Well,” Gandalf began with a sigh, “let us start at the beginning then, but first if it is not too much trouble my dear, maybe a spot of breakfast might not go amiss.”

Belladonna jumped up from her seat, happy to have something to do as this conversation sounded like something she would much rather avoid, and also because she couldn’t believe what kind of hostess she was showing herself to be. Of all things, to forget to offer food to a guest! Her mother would skin her alive if she found out. Rushing into the kitchen, Bella made quick work of disposing of the now ruined bread dough, giving the table a quick but thorough going over with the wet dishcloth.

“Make yourself comfortable, won’t be a minute” she called over her shoulder when she saw the old wizard making his way into the kitchen.

Off she rushed to the pantry to collect the ingredients for pancakes, sausages, tomatoes and potatoes. When she was almost to the door of the large room that housed their food, she decided to check in on her husband and maybe even get him to entertain their guest while she cooked.

When she opened her bedroom door, Bella found her hobbit husband awake and even mostly dressed. Walking over to stand beside him at the room’s full-length mirror, she gave him a quick peck on his soft cheek.

“Did I hear talking? Do we have company?”

“Yes, we do, Love,” she said with a grin, “in fact we have a wizard at our table.” And with that she danced out of the room ignoring Bungo’s splutters and went to finally collect everything for breakfast.

…..…

 

Dishes had been washed and put away for nearly an hour before Gandalf, with pipe in hand, slowly began his tale. Bella looked at Bungo who sat next to her at the table and across from the wizard. She gave him a raised brow in question and received a small one-shoulder shrug in reply.

“Now my good hobbits, even though I have been graciously informed that the subject of dragons is an uncomfortable one, I must insist that they be the topic of our conversation.” Gandalf took a few short puffs on his pipe, his eyes taking on a far away look.

Bella could swear that the room seemed to grow dimmer, the air crackling with some unknown energy.

“In the beginning of all things, before the world was created, Eru Ilúvatar created the first Ainu called Melkor,” the wizard murmured low and deep.

Bella and Bungo gasped simultaneously at the name. Anyone in middle earth who was worth his or her salt knew that name, or better yet… Just the thought of that other name sent shivers down Bella’s spine.

The wizard didn’t seem to be disturbed by the hobbits reaction. “When Arda was still new and before the races of the world were awakened, Melkor would take to walking across the land and contemplating its diversity and deciding what kind of things might be created to inhabit it. On one such walk, he happened upon what looked like nothing more than a roughly shaped oval rock,” Gandalf paused in his telling to refill his pipe.

Bella and her husband leaned forward in their seats in anticipation for the tale to continue. The subject of the story may be uncomfortable, but no hobbit in the history of the shire would ever turn down a good tale, and this one was shaping up to be epic.

Taking a long drag on the stem of his pipe, blue tinged smoke curled into the air looking almost like images of dragons. The wizard continued. “ When the Ainu pick up the stone, it was hot against his skin and pulsed with a power like he had never felt in Arda. He took the stone home with him, smoothed and polished the stone’s surface until it shone bright, and there he kept it for an age, locked in a padded box. After a time, the stone began to weigh heavily on Melkor’s mind, until one day he unlocked the box and removed the stone from its bed. As soon as it touched his skin, images of fire and power flashed before his eyes. The stone was now cold to the touch and the power that once thrummed through it was nothing more than a whisper. He rushed to the hearth that was alight in his room and placed the stone among the ashes and glowing embers. And there he waited.”

Gandalf suddenly leaned forward taking Bella and Bungo by surprise. “And do you know what happened then my young hobbits?” he asked in a dramatic, rumbling whisper. Both Bella and Bungo shook their heads, leaning even closer then before, drawn in by the power of the story.

“IT HATCHED!” the old man suddenly cried out, followed by a peal of deep, delighted laughter.

The shriek the left Bella’s mouth was completely undignified and the alarmed cry from Bungo was quite shocking to say the least. The cackling wizard received a glare from Bella that was certainly mirrored by her indignant husband.

“I’m sorry, my dears. I couldn’t resist a bit of fun,” Gandalf offered a bit more solemn, “The story I tell is true though, I’m afraid.”

Bella gave him a little huff. She wasn’t averse to a little fun, but when the subject at hand happened to be what it was, there was no room for such frivolities. From the indignant look on her husband’s face, he felt much the same way.

“ All joking aside, what hatched from that stone was nothing short of amazing,” the old man continued. “What Melkor now witnessed slithering from the fire and up his leg was…well, what we know as a dragon!”

The sound of yet another set of gasps rang out in the room.

“It curled around his arm and even nuzzled into his neck, like a fauntling with its mother. It had twinkling black scales and black horns dusted in gold upon its head. A set of spikes ran along the creature’s spine and tail, similar in color to the horns on its head. As Melkor looked over the creature with fascination, he made a vast mistake…”

Bella looked at Gandalf expectantly. “Well, what was his mistake?” She knew she was being rude, but the old man could be so exasperating!

The wizard chuckled at her eagerness. “He looked into the dragon’s golden eyes. And by doing so formed a link between his mind and that of the creature. The beast was then able to show Melkor a great many things, all in his mind of course. It showed him its true name, what it was and how it came into being. It also showed him how to find other stones and how to hatch them.”

“Where did it come from?” Bella asked with a distressed voice. She didn’t know why that part of the story disturbed her the most, but it did.

“I’m getting there, my dear,” Gandalf assured her softly. “The creature called it and its kind Dragons. It told Melkor that its name was Glaurung and that he and the others were created of the earth itself, with no help from Eru or any of the other Valar. The stones of the earth and the fire within it had created its own beings to inhabit Arda.”

“How can that be?” asked Bella, a bit perplexed.

“My dear Bella, have you never felt the power flowing in the black soil of your garden? When the Valar created Arda, the magic that they used remained in the soil and stones. That magic came together and created Dragons.”

“Oh,” Bella murmured. She still didn’t really understand but then again she was just a simple hobbit and maybe it wasn’t meant to be understood by her.

“Melkor took to hiding Glaurung after that. He had no desire for him to be found by the others, as he felt that his dragon’s power and knowledge were his and his alone. Innumerable ages past before it became apparent that Melkor could no longer hide the dragon. Its size was far too massive for that. Soon the Valar found out about this beast. They were not pleased with Melkor for keeping such a creature from them. So they came together to plan out what must happen to the beast, as it was not of their making.”

Gandalf paused, sipping at the glass of water that had been placed in front of him some time ago. “It was decided that it would be studied and its possible attributes be used for the good of Valinor and Arda. They learned a great many things from the beast. Things that, if used appropriately, would be of a benefit like no other. There was just one problem: Melkor as well as Glaurung had no desire to be used by another. So while the Valar planned out how to go about retrieving the other eggs, Melkor and his dragon departed the ever green shores of Valinor and made their way to Arda.”

Belladonna inhaled sharply, “So that’s how he became Morgoth!” she was shocked she had said that name without shuddering in disgust.

“Quite right! His refusal to aid the Valar in finding and training the dragons ended with him being banished for all times from Valinor. He and Glaurung went out and began their campaign to find, hatch and use as many dragons as they could. By bonding with each newly hatched dragon, Morgoth and by extension Glaurung could manipulate and used that dragon’s power and gifts.” The old wizard took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Bella thought she had never seen a more sad expression on a person’s face in all her life. He looked like he had a broken heart. She put her hand on his where it rested on the table and marveled for a moment at how much larger his was compared to hers.

The wizard gave her a soft smile and patted her hand with his other one. “How about some tea and a light lunch?” Bella offered with a smile in return. She was up before the old man could give any kind of affirmation. It didn’t take her long to pull together a platter of cold meats, cheeses, bread, cookies and a large pot of tea. It was rather odd for her kitchen to have people in it and no conversation taking place, but she figured Gandalf must be collecting his thoughts and giving his voice a rest.

“Ah, thank you, Bella,” Gandalf offered with a smile as she sat the platter and kettle on the table. Bella was tempted to open the kitchen window that overlooked her garden and let in a little fresh winter air, but decided against it in case one of her neighbors got a little curious about the goings on in her home. Best to be safe. Though she was impatient for the story to continue, Bella refused to rush her guest through his meal. So she sat primly and nibbled on a bit of meat and cheese.

When the last cup of tea was finished and the last morsel eaten, Gandalf settled back in his rather small seat and continued with his storytelling.

“Morgoth and his dragon spent many, many, years hatching and breeding dragons. By the time the Valar noticed, all their activities had been in secret you see, the races of the world had already be awakened and were living quite happily in their fast growing towns and villages. The Valar began to secret away all the eggs they found that had yet to be hatched. They took the eggs and hide them among the races of Arda…”

“But wouldn’t you-know-who and his dragon know they were there?” Bungo interrupted. Bella’s own confusion mirrored in his voice.

“Yes and no. The Valar instructed the oldest of each family in each race on how to hatch the eggs and told them that at the moment of birth of their oldest child, they must allow the infant and the dragon to bond. It would then take on some of the traits of the child, such as bits of the child’s personality and temperament. They hoped that by doing so the dragons would be more apt to being and staying on the side of good. This would hopefully make them less noticed by the forces of darkness. The Valar worked strong magic on the dragons before they hatched, making the dragons proportionate to the size of whichever race it lived. They named these individuals Keepers; individuals who would keep the dragons safe just as the dragons would keep their Keepers safe. The dragons were both male and female, able to lay eggs. Whatever the child was, whether male or female, the dragon would identify itself as such. Male with male and so on.

It was Bella’s turn to interrupt this time. “But what does that have to do with Hobbits and their dragons?”

“I’m getting there, dear girl!” He huffed, “Do be patient. This is not an easy tale to tell but it must be done. As I was saying…” the wizard gave her a pointed look.

Bella crossed her arms and huffed, giving him a mock glare. She, once again, received nothing more than a raised eyebrow as a retort.

“There were years of happiness for all races and their dragons, but it was not to last. Morgoth and Glaurung discovered the Valar’s actions and swore revenge. Because Hobbits were the smallest and kindest of all the races, Morgoth and his dragon chose to target them. Glaurung began to spread lies and deceit, hoping that the dragons would turn to his side or destroy each other. By doing so he and Morgoth would be able to syphon their power. Certainly not as effectively as they would have if they had bonded to Morgoth, but it was still possible. What Morgoth and Glaurung did not expect…were the hobbits turning the dragons away all on their own.” Here he paused for just a moment. Bella could see the emotions flickering across his wizened face.

“The Hobbits had heard the lies Glaurung whispered in the dragon and hobbit ears alike. They grew suspicious of everyone and everything. A few dragons began to follow Glaurung, and as they did so…they slaughtered their hobbit keepers. Keepers who had become family and vice versa. The hobbits felt they could no longer trust their dragon keepers and so they banished and killed all remaining dragons.”

Bella cried out in shock and horror. Not only had hobbits been murdered but also a great number of innocent dragons; some were likely still infants. It was the most horrible thing she had ever heard. Bella felt a soft hand on her face and realized that her beloved was wiping tears from her cheeks. Gandalf waited until she had pulled herself together before he resumed his story.

“The Valar saw the slaughter and discord that Morgoth and Glaurung had caused to their most kindly creation, and wept bitterly. They quickly summoned one of the Maiar or wizards to them and begged him to go and find any remaining dragon eggs in the shire and to keep it safe…He only found one. Hidden in the earth beneath a sapling oak on top of a large hill, was the last dragon’s egg. The Maiar took it and kept it for ages upon ages. Until such a time of the Valar’s choosing. At that time the egg would be returned to one who was worthy to protect, teach and love it with its whole heart. And that, my dear young Bagginses, is what brings me to your door.”

Much to Bella’s shock, Gandalf stood from his place on the table bench and made his way out of the kitchen and toward the front room. She could do nothing but splutter at the abruptness of it all and follow him out of the room, trailed closely by her husband. They reached the front room not long after Gandalf and already they found him lounging comfortably back in the chair he started out in. Bungo settled in the other armchair and Bella stood, hands on her hips, pointedly looking at Gandalf.

“You can NOT tell a story like that and then just up and walk away without a word of explanation or by your leave,” she huffed and puffed indignantly.

“Bella, my love,” Bungo called softly, “Please sit down and let the gentleman finish whatever it is he needs to do.”

Bella smiled at him and pulled up a chair next to Bungo. Gandalf beamed at the two of them. He leaned over to his wrappings that were still piled on the floor next to the fire. Bella scolded herself for not having hung them properly. Out of the depths of the grey cloth came, what could only be an egg. It glowed a deep emerald green in the light of the popping fire.

“Oh,” she let out in a breathy exhale, her eyes wide as saucers. Bella found herself oddly drawn to it. It was no bigger than a large hearty loaf of her mother’s famous bread. The stone or rather the egg was beautiful.

“This, my dears,” Gandalf said in a low tone, startling her out of her daze. “Is the last Dragon egg of the Hobbits. It is to go to your child. Which, in case you were wondering, will likely be a little boy.”

Bella and Bungo both laughed at this.

“Now listen closely,” the wizard stated in a serious voice, “at the moment the child is born, the egg will hatch. You must keep the egg in the hearth among the embers to keep it warm. When it hatches, you MUST, I repeat must let it come to the babe. It will know what to do. You cannot interfere with anything it does or else it will all be for naught. Even if the child screams and wails, do not interfere. Am I understood?”

Both of the hobbits shared a look of hesitation before looking back at the wizard and nodding in agreement.

“Good. Now I must be off,” he said, handing the egg to Bella and standing to leave. He wound himself again in his grey wrapping as he walked to the door. Before he opened it, he turned once more to Bella and her husband.

“Remember this. Just because Morgoth and Glaurung have been dead since the end of the first age, that does not mean that there will be no danger for that dragon or your child. For now, keep it secret…keep it safe.”

And with that the odd old wizard left Bella’s smial as quickly as he came. His words of warning still ringing in her ears. She turned on her heels, kissed her husband and went down the hall to her bedroom. Since that was the likeliest place that she would eventually give birth, Bella stoked the room’s fire and buried the egg as best as she could in the hot ashes.

There the egg remained for a little over nine months.

On the twenty-second of September, a shrill cry rang out in the Baggins home. A little boy was indeed born to two loving parents and an emerald loaf-sized female dragon was hatched.

Their names were Bilbo Baggins and Donnamira.

****  
  



	2. An Unexpected Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> Here is the newest chapter for you! I want to let everyone know that they may notice as the chapters are posted that the writing will be a bit different. I am currently in the middle of evolving my writing into something that will be so much better than it is now. I just didn't want to throw you all off if the change is super noticeable.
> 
> I want to thank all of you with lots of hugs, snuggles and cookies for all the kudos, hits, bookmarks and subscriptions. They and comments are my daily bread!!
> 
> ON A SIDE NOTE: EVERYTHING IN ITALICS IS A MENTAL CONVERSATION!
> 
> Ok well, Read on and I hope you enjoy!!  
> Feel free to leave feed back and feel free to follow me on Tumblr where you can message me directly. www.misswitchy14.tumblr.com
> 
> BYE until next week!!!

Chapter One

An Unexpected Journey

On a sunny day on the road into Hobbiton, walked two very unlikely companions. At least by hobbit standards, anywhere else in the world it would have been as normal as rain. It was a young hobbit and a lovely little dragon. This journey into town would prove to be life changing.

“Was it really necessary to come into town,” Bilbo whined to the green pony-size dragon at his side, shoving his hands deep in his trouser pockets, “You know what happens every time we go there.”

“Yes of course I know, but these pots won’t mend themselves and you know it,” Donnamira quipped. Her voice was a low purr and as smooth as silk. Bilbo loved when she spoke, it always reminded him of a large cat.

Bilbo just looked up at her with smile, love shining in his green eyes. Donnamira, or Mira as he called her, was a beauty, her emerald scales glistening in the sun and highlighted by the gold dusting along her slightly curved horns and leathery upper wings, reminding Bilbo of a jewel.

Bilbo felt a sudden wave of fondness coming from his dragon.  He knew his dragon had read every thought he had just had about her looks. She was his dearest friend and sadly his only. But he had no complaints, she could be great fun. Of course, that was when she wasn’t being mothering or overprotective.

It had only been a few years since his mother died of Winter Sickness, but since then Mira had taken to mothering him in excess: making sure he ate, even when he didn’t feel like it.  She would even growl at passers by when she caught them whispering vile things about him and her.

“I know, I know. Hopefully the blacksmith is one of the dwarves from the Blue Mountains, they always seemed pretty nice. If it’s Mr. Bolger filling in, then it’s guaranteed we wont be getting our pots fixed.” Bilbo shook his head a little at the thought of yet another hobbit treating him and Mira as if they had some sort of plague. There was nothing for it though, things needed to be taken care of.

The gentle voice of Mira covered his mind in a soft blanket of loving warmth. _“You will always have me, little one. That is something no one can change.”_ She always knew how to comfort him, even when they were still younglings. Anytime the children and even some of their parents tormented him (which was often), she was always there to lick his tears away and wrap her body around his in a comforting hug.

 _“I know. I’m thankful I have you,”_ he replied, sending a loving mental touch to his dragon as his words filtered into her mind much the way hers had with him.

“Come on, little hobbit. The blacksmith won’t be open forever and we don’t want to linger in town,” Mira told him, picking up her pace. He knew she expected him to keep up and so he did.

They made good time getting to the market. They were even lucky enough to not encounter any other hobbits on the road. As soon as they entered town, Bilbo instantly felt anxious with the amount of people that were now in close proximity. The normally busy market grew unnaturally quiet, the tenders in their stalls and their haggling customers all turning toward the new arrivals. Bilbo hated this part; this was why he hardly ever ventured further than his garden if there was even the slightest possibility of coming across another person.

Mira leaned a closer to him as they continued to walk toward the blacksmith. He sighed in relief, comforted by her body’s warmth next to his own. They were only three stalls into the market when he heard it. Or rather them.

“Can you believe the nerve of him? Coming here with that …that thing!” spat an older hobbit woman. The young lady next to her wore a very serious expression on her face and nodded her head in agreement, sending her light brown curls bouncing.

Bilbo lowered his eyes, hoping they wouldn’t notice him looking in their direction and make their verbal abuse worse. Glancing to the side, he saw that his dragon had tilted her head back and gave the appearance of looking down her nose at all they passed. It was rather amazing how much the dragon could convey her utter contempt for the whole lot. He wished terribly that he had her courage and could block it all out. But he couldn’t; he never had been able to, especially as a child.

They had not gone far from the fruit stall when yet another townsfolk decided that Bilbo, Mira and everyone else needed to hear his opinion. The sad thing was this was one of his extended family.

“That boy has been nothing but a disgrace from the time he was born. Even his mother died because she couldn’t stand him.”

Bilbo couldn’t take it anymore. With tears filling his eyes, he picked up his pace, but did his best to avoid the appearance of running away from his uncle’s cutting words. He wanted so badly to just cover his ears and pretend he didn’t hear the rest of the whispers spewing forth from every direction. Not even Mira’s growls or her silent mental reassurances were a comfort this time.

He felt Mira tap him on the shoulder gently with one of her front claws. There were times she would sit up on her hind legs and use her front paws as hands, just as she was now. Bilbo hadn’t even noticed that they had reached the blacksmith’s shop that sat at the furthest end of the market or that he had come to a stop in front of it.  

“Oh, we’re here,” he stated, quickly wiping at his eyes. It wouldn’t do to show the dwarf smith that he was a crying child. Dwarves were made of stone and Bilbo didn’t think he could handle any more humiliation just because he couldn’t keep his tears inside.

 _“Peace, Dearest. I have a good feeling about this dwarf,”_ came the dragon’s mental encouragement.

Bilbo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He took the pack filled with pots off of Mira’s back and walked into the dim shop. The smell of hot metal and smoke overwhelmed his nose the instant he stepped across the threshold. The heat radiating from the forge at the far end of the room was almost unbearable. The shop was a bit cramped for his dragon to follow him so she waited patiently outside.

He couldn’t see the smith anywhere as he squinted, looking around the hazy room. “Hello?” he called out, nearly jumping when a dwarf popped his head in the back door directly across from him and the front door before ducking back out.

“Just be a minute!” the dwarf yelled from the yard that lay behind the shop.

Bilbo thought about answering back but figured the dwarf wouldn't hear him. He would just wait until the dwarf finished whatever it was he was doing out there. He didn’t have to wait long before the smith returned. Bilbo could barely contain his smile. The dwarf smith wore a bright smile and two braided pig-tails on either side of his head that stuck straight out and curve upward. All in all he made for a rather amusing image.

“Hello Master Hobbit, and what can I be doing for you today?”

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, it had been so long since anyone other than Mira had said a kind word to him, let alone call him ‘Master Hobbit’. “I have some pots that need to have the handles reinforced. They’re getting a bit wobbly.”

The dwarf took the sack of pots that Bilbo offered him and placed each one on the table, examining the handles thoroughly. “These won’t take long at all. I just finished my last order so I can start on these now. Do you mind waiting for them?”

“No, not at all,” Bilbo quickly assured him. He hoped the dwarf would make for good conversation, it would be nice to have someone other than a temperamental, overprotective dragon to talk to. He chuckled softly at the very obvious dragon snort he heard from outside the front door. Bilbo could feel that she was amused by his description of her, even if it was only said in his head.

“Names Bofur, by the way,” the dwarf said pulling his attention back to the smith. Bilbo offered his hand and the dwarf shook it with gusto.  

“Oh…um…my name’s B-Bilbo. Bilbo B-Baggins.”

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Bofur offered another toothy grin, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Turning, the dwarf walked back to the table and retrieved one of the pots and took it to the forge to begin work. Bilbo found a wooden bench tucked under the front window of the shop and sat on it hoping the breeze would drift through the window and cool things down a bit. The heat he had felt on entering the shop had only gotten worse. Mira surprised him by putting her head in the window, nuzzling his neck once in greeting. They sat quietly watching the dwarf swing a hammer that looked far too heavy especially for the likes of Bilbo. Soon there were three pots newly repaired on the table.  The dwarf wiped his brow with a cloth, coming to sit next to Bilbo on the bench.

“Hey, how about we sit out back where it’s cooler. Plenty of room for your young lady to join us too,” he said nodding toward Mira. Bilbo looked up at the dragon just in time to see a shocked expression flutter across her green and gold face.

“You can tell she’s, well a girl?” Bilbo knew he sounded dense but he couldn’t help himself. His question earned him a kind belly laugh from the dwarf.

“Oh aye, as easy as anything. But from what I can tell you’re the only one with a dragon in these parts, so I wouldn't expect you to be able to tell that there was quite a difference in boy dragons and girl dragons.”

The dwarf had said it without malice; he had even added a wink letting Bilbo know he was teasing. Bilbo still felt stupid though for his lack of knowledge of the outside world. “Oh, okay.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to continue letting the dwarf see his lack of experience, but the thought of learning more about dragons was too good to pass up. Plus the dwarf seemed just fine with Mira around.

Bilbo collected his pots, tying them again to his dragon’s back. He returned inside following the dwarf through the back door and into the shade of a large tree. Mira had walked around the building to join them. Bilbo gave her a quick rub on the snout and then reclined against the tree trunk. Bofur pulled out a long curved pipe that had a bowl that reminded Bilbo of some kind of fang, dragon maybe. He could tell it was a loved and well-used pipe and lamented the lack of his own. It took the dwarf several minutes to get the pipe weed going and Bilbo waited patiently.

“Do you have a dragon?” the question escaping his lips before he had a chance to stop it.

The dwarf laughed softly, “aye that I do. I’m the eldest after all. His name is Goisil; call ‘im Sil for short. Lovely brown dragon he is, no bigger than a horse. Can be a right bit more serious than necessary but he and I are a good fit.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure how to reply, he felt he should give Mira’s name in return. The thought didn’t quite set well with him though, feeling like he would be giving away a secret or a rare gift. He had felt that way many times over the years, it was one of the reasons when he did give her name, he only gave the shortened version. Bilbo decided to ask his dragon and let her answer if she wished. She hardly ever spoke out loud in the presence of others, people tended to get nervous at the sight of her open mouth. He thought it must have something to do with her razor like teeth.

 _“Do you want to tell him your name?”_  He asked, his mental voice soft and caring, sending reassurances along with his question so she would know he wasn’t going to make her.

“My name is Donnamira,” she told the dwarf in lieu of replying to Bilbo. “But you are welcome to call me Mira.”

“Pleasure is all mine, little miss,” Bofur replied with a cheeky grin. The moniker earned him a halfhearted glare from the dragon. Bilbo giggled at the exchange. He could feel his dragon’s growing fondness for the dwarf and that helped put Bilbo at ease.

“Mira, are you excited about the upcoming Match?” the dwarf asked between puffs on his pipe.

Bilbo and Mira both gave him a blank stare. He had no idea what the dwarf was talking about.

“Oh Mahal, don’t tell me you don’t know about The Match?” The shocked look Bofur aimed at them let them told them both that their lack of knowledge was especially uncommon in the dwarf’s experience.

“I’m sorry…what match?”

“And what does it have to do with me?” Mira asked with a tilt of her head, her wings twitching.

Bofur scratched his head for a minute. “I mean no offence, but The Match is where all dragons and their Keepers go to find their mates. Only Keepers and dragons have soulmates.” He paused for a moment letting the information sink in.

Heat spread across Bilbo’s cheeks. He looked at Mira and saw the blush mirrored oddly on her own. Their tastes in mates were not normal; freakish and disgusting if one were to ask the average hobbit.

Bilbo blushed deeper as he slowly turned back toward the dwarf. He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. He may just lose this potential friend once he told him about his and Mira’s proclivities.

“I really don’t think there will be mates for us there,” he said softly, lowering his eyes.

“Why ever not? The Valar created someone for each of us,” Bofur protested.

“You don’t understand,” Bilbo protested a little louder, “We’re…well, we’re different. Freaks.” He finished the last word in a whisper. He felt a burst of warmth and care and maybe even a little bit of resignation coming from his dragon.

He took a quick glance to the side to see the dwarf’s expression and what he found was nothing short of amazing. It was acceptance he saw, warmth, care and understanding.

“Everyone deserves to have a mate.” Bofur placed a large hand on Bilbo's shoulder and gave it a companionable squeeze. “Wanna fill me in?”

“Well…we, we,” Bilbo just couldn’t get it out. He hung his head knowing Mira would be able to finish the sentence for him. A minute later she did.

“We like our own, master dwarf,” she said a little sadly.

Bofur looked confused for a second, then understanding spread across his face, followed by a broad smile. “Oh, I see now. You two have nothing to worry about. It’s common outside the shire for men to be mated with other men and the same goes for women.”

They gasped, the news sending anticipation tingling down their spines. Could there really be a place out there somewhere just for them?

“Are you sure?” Bilbo asked breathlessly, moving closer to the dwarf. Mira wiggling closer as much as a pony sized dragon could.

Bofur smiled and nodded. “Oh aye, nothin’ uncommon or freakish about it.”

“Anyone, even people like us?” Mira asked in a hushed voice, looking as excited as Bilbo felt.

“Of course! Some would even say it’s expected, especially if you’re of age.” Bofur said giving them a mischievous grin. “How would you two like to come along to The Match with me? I’m headed there in a couple of days with two others. It’s about time to find myself a mate.” He finished with an exaggerated wink.

“Where is it?” Mira asked before Bilbo had a chance to ask the question himself.

“Erebor!” Bofur exclaimed dramatically.

Bilbo inhaled sharply, he had of course heard of the greatest and strongest dwarf kingdom in all of middle earth.

 _“What do you think, love? Would you want to risk it?”_ Bilbo wanted to make sure this was really something Mira wanted even if she did seem excited at the idea. He knew he wanted to leave, but there was still some hesitation. At least here, he knew what to expect, there though anything could and likely would happen.

 _“Oh yes. If it means we can both be ourselves and maybe even find a bit of love. I would say that is very much worth the risk.”_ Her answer, and the resolute emotion that came with it was a comfort.

“Yes, we’ll go with you,” Bilbo told the dwarf, who answered with a rather undignified whoop. Bilbo and Mira laughed heartily. A weight lifted from them as they thought about the upcoming trip. They had so much to learn about the world outside of the shire.

“Splendid!” The dwarf bellowed jumping to his feet, his heavy boots thumping the ground soundly.

The bright green grass flattened under Bofur’s feet as he danced a little jig. Peals of laughter from the pair filled the warm summer air. It felt so good to laugh after so long of living with fear and rejection. Bilbo was thankful for a great many things, but it was nice to finally be happy. He knew his dragon was happy, he could feel it vibrating off of her in waves.

Bilbo stood, brushing off his trousers as he did. There was so much that needed to be prepared before they left. He pulled a small pouch of silver out of his pocket and offered it to the dwarf.

“Here, I hope this is sufficient to cover the mended pots. We should be heading off home. Lots too do yet.”

“Oh that’s more than plenty. Are you sure you don’t want some of this back?” Bofur asked with a slightly furrowed brow.

“No, it will help with the trip,” Mira answered softly. She gave him a kind smile and Bilbo felt a wave of protectiveness toward the older male. He knew she now considered the dwarf one of hers to protect and Keep, even if he had his own dragon to do so. Bilbo smiled to himself and sent his love to her for it. He could see the dwarf struggling with his pride over the “gift”, but eventually a looked of resignation settled on the dwarf’s face.

“Alright, but I’ll only take it in case we need something extra…for all of us!”

Bilbo smiled at him and nodded in agreement. “Should we meet you here in two days time?”

“Sounds like as good a place as any, it will let me make sure the shop is closed up proper,” Bofur replied, shoving the sack of coins in his coat pocket.

“Alright, farewell friend. See you soon!” Bilbo called over his shoulder as he and his dragon made their way around the side of the building. He didn’t even mind the gossips going back through town. He had far too much on his mind to be bothered by it. There was Bag End he would need to find a caretaker for, money to withdraw from the bank and clothes and food to pack. Bilbo was grateful once again for his dragon. She would be carrying him and their supplies on this journey. He didn’t normally like to use her for packing things about but he knew she would not want it any other way, especially with them going out into the unknown.

****

It took every waking minute of both days to finish preparing for their trip. He had handed the keys to his lovely hobbit hole over to his least despicable cousin, Drogo. The hobbit was soon to be married, so he thought a nice smial would be a lovely wedding present. Soon everything that he could hope to get by with carrying was tied down to the back of his dragon and he was locking the door for the last time.

Bilbo stepped back from the bright green door and took a deep breath. This was the place he was born, the only place where he had ever felt loved. His father had given it to his mother as a wedding gift. He felt tears running down his face. It wasn’t just a home he was leaving, but his parents. They were buried under the ancient oak on top of the hill that housed Bag End.

_“Come along little one, we mustn’t keep them waiting. They aren’t really there love; they are now in your heart. To carry with you anywhere you may wander. They wouldn't want you to be trapped here. Come on!”_

Mira knew exactly what Bilbo needed and had given it freely…like always. Keeper indeed.

 _“I know love. Let us be on our way, shall we? Never know what kind of lovely beauty may be waiting to sweep you off your feet.”_ Bilbo only had to force a smile a little. He could feel the excitement building in the both of the looping back and forth between the two of them. With a nod, Mira lifted her front leg giving Bilbo a boost onto her back. Soon they were setting a steady pace back down the road to the market to meet his company.

As they approached the blacksmith shop, Bilbo was with met a confusing sight. He had assumed the dwarf would have his dragon with him, he knew it was uncommon for Keepers to go without their dragon counterparts. He wouldn't be separated from Mira if it could be helped.

The dwarf must have read his question on his face. He laughed happily, settling himself into the saddle of a lovely chestnut mare, tying the reins of another to the horn of the saddle. “Sil is waiting on the other side of Bywater, along with my brother and cousin.”

“Will they be coming to The Match too?” Bilbo inquired as the lot of them began moving toward the outskirts of town. Mira kept easy pace with the trotting mare, her stride a bit longer than the mare’s.

“Oh aye, these here horses are for them,” Bofur replied with a nod toward the beasts, “I’ll be riding Sil. Don’t do it often, but when necessary it comes in handy.”

Bilbo nodded in understanding. He felt a sudden tremor run through his dragon. Concerned, he placed his hand on her smooth scales and sent her a wave of comfort to try and sooth her. _“Are you alright love?”_

 _“Ye-yes, but…what if he doesn’t like me?”_ Mira’s mental whisper floated over Bilbo’s mind with the lightest of touches.

 _“Who love? Bofur? Of course he does!”_ Bilbo couldn’t understand where this insecurity was coming from. Of everyone he had ever met, she was the most confident of all.

 _“Not Him!”_ she said, though it felt more like a shout to him. _“What if the other…dragon… doesn’t like me?”_

Bilbo nearly laughed at that, but managed to keep it to himself. However, he was unable to hide his amusement with Mira, who gave an irritated huff in reply.

_“Oh sweetie, I’m not making fun, I promise. Of course the other dragon will like you. If he doesn’t, he’s not worth being called a dragon and will have me to deal with.”_

At this, he felt a laugh wrap around is mind like a warm hug. He smiled even though she couldn’t see him. Bofur gave him a knowing smile as he pulled his pipe out of his pocket, seeming to prepare for a nice riding smoke. It wouldn't be too long before they met up with the others, and after that it would be out into the wilds, where the true adventure began.

 


	3. The Adventure Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this, given kudos, comments and bookmarks!! I am just thrilled to the point of actually squealing every time I get new notices from y'all !!
> 
> Thanks again to the most amazing beta reader ever, and the most hardcore editor (and writing technique instructor) ever. I couldn't do this without you two!!
> 
> Again, any conversations in Italics is mental. 
> 
> Your constructive and kind feed back is greatly appreciated!!
> 
> Thanks again, and I'll see you all again next week!
> 
> xoxo

Chapter Two

The Adventure Begins

Getting to the other side of Bywater was easier than Bilbo expected. He hadn’t gone farther than the market in Hobbiton since being old enough to venture out on his own. Now that he was the farthest he had ever been, it didn’t seem so frightening.

Bofur kept them entertained with stories about his life in the Blue Mountains: working as a miner and toy maker, only coming to the shire to work as a smith when it was time to earn extra money for the trip east. Bilbo found himself fascinated by the dwarf’s stories, and felt Mira’s interest vibrating along the link that bonded them, her attention piqued when the subject turned to other dragons. He felt guilty for not thinking about how his isolation might affect Mira.  Now they were on an adventure and he would do his best to help her experience everything she had been missing.

The rumbling laughter from his dragon pulled him from his thoughts and back into the moment.

“…And he fell for the trick?” Mira asked with a giggle. Her eyes shining bright with glee as she glanced at the dwarf next to her.

“Oh Aye. Hook, line and sinker,” Bofur replied with a laugh, keeping his face forward. “Oh look! There are the boys!” he added a moment a later and set his horse to a gallop, leaving Bilbo and his dragon to follow at a slower pace.

Bilbo felt a tremor run through his dragon followed by a sudden wash of panic and dread. It was the most powerful surge of emotions he had ever felt from Mira.  

“Mira, please stop,” he called in a broken voice, curling in on himself as his stomach rolled with nausea.

The dragon came to a halt, bowing her head in an attempt to calm herself. Bilbo glanced down and saw she had her eyes closed, brow furrowed.

A soft, deep voice pulled them both up sharp.

“Hello,” said a rusty brown dragon, slightly larger than Donnamira.  

They stared at him for several minutes. It was a bit shocking to see another dragon. “Hello…I-I’m Bilbo,” he replied as polite as possible. It took Mira a little longer to answer.

“I’m Mira…well, Donnamira,” Mira offered with a smile. “But you’re welcome to call me Mira.” She added quickly.

The other dragon chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Goisil, Sil for short.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Bilbo replied with a smile. Mira nodded her head.

“Bofur says that you will be joining us on our travels,” Sil stated, turning and making his way back to the others. Mira had to jog to keep up with him.

“Yes,” they answered together, earning them another chuckle from the other dragon.

“Come meet the others,” Bofur called to them. When they arrived, they were introduced to the older dwarf’s brother and cousin.

Bofur’s brother, Bombur, was a rotund redhead with a large braided beard that looped from ear to ear. His cousin, Bifur, was on the slim side with wild salt and pepper hair, carrying a boar’s spear, a nasty looking axe head embedded in his brow.  The dwarves nodded their greeting and turned back to finish packing up their horses.

They didn’t stay in Bywater long, turning to the east and making their way along The Great East Road. The two dwarves on horses brought up the rear of their odd little caravan, while the dragons and their Keepers walked shoulder to shoulder in the front. The conversations were light between Bilbo and Bofur, but Bilbo noticed Mira wasn’t attempting conversation with Sil.

“Are you alright love?” Bilbo asked, knots twisting in his gut as anxiety swept over him. Wiping his sweaty palms on his clothed thighs, he waited for her reply. When she finally did, he was relieved.

“I’m just fine dear. Don’t fret so.” She gave him a fond chuckle.

“Then why aren’t you talking to us? Or to Sil?”

“I will talk to him in due time, my sweet. He is also welcome to talk to me at anytime.” Bilbo heard a touch of sarcasm through their bond and laughed.

The shire was lush and green; rolling hills and babbling brooks sprung up everywhere. The trees scattered about the landscape providing little spots of shade that were perfect for picnics or naps. Soon they reached the Brandywine Bridge, leaving the shire and moving into Buckland and along the edge of The Old Forest.

Bilbo took a deep breath through his nose, taking in the sent of lilacs on the air. A prick of sadness stung his heart as thoughts of home and his fertile garden wafted through his mind.

“Change is a good thing little one. I feel like something is going to happen that will change our fates forever.”  Mira sent Bilbo a soothing wave of contentment, the muscles in his shoulder relaxing and his heart beat slowing.

“I know love. I’ve had the same feeling since we left home. Whatever it means, as long as I have you by my side, it’ll be ok.” This spark that he felt in his belly growing stronger the farther they got from home.

The miles bled away slowly. Gauzy clouds speckled the cerulean sky, creating patches of shade along the road. Conversations were light in the group if they were had at all. It seemed to Bilbo that they all had things on their mind. On the far side of The Old Forest, they stopped for a bite of lunch and to let the dragons and horses drink from the nearby stream. The coolness from the dense stand of pine trees mixed with oaks and aspens offered Bilbo and the dwarves some added reprieve from the sun.

It was at this stop that Bilbo found he had something in common with Bombur. They had just settled themselves on the ground and on a couple of fallen logs when the large dwarf handed out a lunch like Bilbo had never had. Out of a tin, the dwarf handed out flakey golden fried pockets of dough filled with savory gravy, shredded meats and diced vegetables.

“Bombur, these are amazing! I’ve never had anything like it…well I have something like this with fruit in it, but never anything savory,” Bilbo gushed, daintily nibbling on the pastry. A deep blush crept across Bombur’s plump cheeks. Bilbo offered the dwarf a kind smile.  

Bombur returned his smile, if a little shyly. “ Thank you kindly, Master Baggins.”

“Please, Bilbo is just fine.” Bilbo startled when he heard Bifur say something in the deep, guttural language of the dwarves.

“He said it’s nice to see someone appreciates good dwarfish food,” Bombur translated for Bilbo.

Bifur laughed at him when the confused look cleared from Bilbo’s face. “Bifur hasn’t been able to speak Westron since the battle of Moria. The axe to his head as well as the death of his dragon has made things a bit hard for him. He only speaks Khuzdûl now, but he can understand Westron just fine.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear about your dragon.” Bilbo directed at Bifur, to which he received a nod in reply.

Bilbo felt and heard the loud thump of footsteps that heralded his dragon’s return. He looked up from the flower he was inspecting, seeing Mira’s jaw working as she crunched and chewed.  

“Find something tasty for lunch?” Bilbo asked with an amused chuckle.

Mira licked her lip in a rather exaggerated manner. “I did. Nothing like a nice tender, plump brace of coneys.”

“I couldn’t agree more. There’s only one way to eat a brace of coneys. Mmm…with potatoes. Boil them, mash them, stick them in a stew,” Bilbo told her, imagining himself back in his little hobbit kitchen with a stew pot on to boil.

Mira huffed at this. “Keep your nasty chips. I’ll take it raw – and wriggling!”

Bilbo scrunched his nose at the suggestion of raw wiggling rabbits. Mira belted out a roaring laugh when she felt his disgust. “Come on little one, it’s time we were going.”

Nodding, Bilbo climbed Mira’s leg, settling on to her back with ease.

As the hours passed, Bilbo happily exchanged cooking ideas and recipes with Bombur and even the occasional joke or riddle with Bofur, Mira piping in from time to time with stories of her own. He tensely wondered if the two dragons had talked while they had been down by the stream.

As if in answer to his question, Bofur’s dragon spoke. “So Mira was telling me that neither of you have been out of the shire and that neither of you had ever heard of The Match?”

Bilbo’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes, we only learned of it from Bofur when we first met him.”

“Wonderful. I’m sure you will enjoy it. Being around other dragons, especially for one so young will be a valuable learning experience.” Sil stated with certainty.

“Do you know what your gifts are?” Sil directed this question to Mira, But it was Bilbo who answered.

“What are gifts? And why would she have them?” Bilbo asked with a perplexed look. “I want to know that too?” Mira added.

Sil misstepped, just managing to just stumble a little. “Are you two serious? How can you not know that a dragon…EVERY dragon has at least one gift? Have you two lived under a rock all your lives?”

Bilbo and Mira shrunk back at the dragon’s angry words and hung their heads. He felt anger building in his belly and knew that part of it was his dragon’s. Bilbo thought that the vile words had ended when they left the shire, but that apparently wasn’t the case.

“We are the only dragon and Keeper in all the shire,” Bilbo snapped, head still low and eyes locked on Mira’s back. “ There hasn’t been anyone else like us in the shire for hundreds of years. We’re FREAKS!” His last words coming out in a shout. The surge of built up anger and resentment for all the abuse they had received growing up flowing from Bilbo like a spring flood.

Waves of loving warmth from Mira washed over Bilbo’s troubled mind. He wiped the tears from his face noticing the company had stopped and a warm brown muzzle was nudging his leg. Bilbo looked up into the rich green eyes of Sil. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched shut.

“I’m sorry little Keeper, I meant no harm. I am sorry for the pain I have caused you and Mira. You are not freaks, you must never think that.” Sil nudged Bilbo’s leg again and turned to Mira, rubbing gently at her neck and face. “I know there is no excuse for my heated words, but I was just shocked.”

Bilbo looked down at his dragon’s back, biting his lower lip. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Oh little Keeper, there is no need to apologize. I deserved it. Would you both do me the honor of telling me your story?” The older dragon’s face showed his sincerity as he looked from Bilbo to Mira and back. The dwarf on his back remained silent.

“Do you think we should? It could help with any other misunderstandings?” Bilbo nibbled his lower lip, brows furrowed, considering if he wanted to tell them or not.

“I really think we should, no matter how much it hurts. He may even be willing to tell us a bit about the gifts he was talking about.” Mira told him with a comforting mental nudge. She had a point

“Yeah, we’ll tell you. It just won’t be right now though.” Looking at the rest of rest of the company, he saw sad smiles and nodding heads.

“Will you tell us more about the gifts?” Mira asked softly, her golden eyes earnest.

Sil gave them a soft smile. “Of course I will. Though it may have to wait until the morrow. The sun will be setting soon and we need to get to Bree.”

Bilbo looked to the now dimming sky, taking in the light chiffon yellows mixed with powder soft pinks, streaked with mauve clouds.

“Come on girl, let’s get going,” Bilbo stated, patting Mira and turning to the dwarves. “Let’s go!” he said with a smile to which Bofur whooped, spurring Sil into a run.

Sil got several hundred feet ahead of them before he launched into the sky, wings spread wide thrusting at the air as he climbed to dizzying heights. Mira watched with wide eyes, Bilbo feeling her excitement at the possibility of flying.  He wasn’t sure either of them were quite ready for such things, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun of their own! With a nudge of his heels, Mira raced off down the road, glistening leathery wings spread out for balance. Feeling her joy and happiness, Bilbo gave himself over to a hearty laugh.

Sil landed with a ground-shaking thud. He walked with Mira talking over the techniques of take off, flight and landing. Bilbo and Bofur looked on, smiling and shaking their heads at the childlike excitement they both felt from their dragons.

Night fell before they reached the walls of Bree. The gatekeeper and his dragon merely asked for their reasons for being in town and let them pass. Bilbo felt his stomach begin to tighten as nerves set in. He hadn’t been around this many people in his life, not to mention this many dragons. Men’s dragons were so much bigger than he or his dragon.

“It’s ok little one, nothing to be nervous about. Don’t get off my back until you absolutely must and everything will be fine. Sil will stick close too.” Once again Mira calmed Bilbo’s mind and gave him the confidence to carry on. It was even more reassuring to know that Bofur’s dragon was also going to be looking out for him and Mira.

Bree was dimly lit, oil lamps hanging from posts along the main street. Various vendor stalls lined the road, boarded up until morning when they would open again for yet another day’s sales. The street was made of hard packed dirt, shallow ruts running down either side where heavy carts had rolled. The houses and shops that lined the street looked brown and dingy in the lamplight. Everything about the town looked almost tired. Building leaning on building as if too exhausted to hold itself up. Even with how busy the street was, Bilbo and his companions had no trouble making their way to the town inn.

When they reached the Prancing Pony Inn, Bilbo slid from Mira’s back, stretched and grabbed his pack.

“Wait here, I’ll see about rooms,” Bilbo called over his shoulder to Mira, moving to join the dwarves that waited at the Inn door.

“They have dragon stalls in the stable in the back, if you’re interested. You’re welcome to stay with your dragon or you can get a separate room,” Bofur told him. “I sometimes prefer to bunk with my dragon, helps in case there’s trouble. Not that I’m expecting any here but you never know.”

“Mira, what would you like to do?” Bilbo asked his dragon. He was fine bunking with her if she was uneasy. He had never spent more than an hour out of her company.

“I’m fine in the stables little one. You go get some rest in a proper bed. There may not be many on our journey.” Bilbo smiled at his dragon, letting her feel his love and appreciation.

“All right dear one, let me secure the room and I’ll walk you to the stables,” Bilbo told her, hefting his leather pack further up his shoulder and following the dwarves into the Inn.

Inside the main room hung a cloud of pipe smoke so thick it could be seen sagging from the ceiling like a wet blanket, tendrils swirling and merging with each other like waves in the sea, the low lamplight unable to penetrate the layers of haze. The bar was twice Bilbo’s height and made of rough-hewn boards, likely to give someone splinters if they ran their hand against it, while the top of the bar was polished smooth from years of travelers wiping oily hands and arms across the surface.

The innkeeper saw Bilbo and the dwarves waiting and shuffled his way over to them. “And what can I do for you young masters?”

“Two rooms and two dragon stalls for a night please,” Bofur asked kindly with his ever-present smile in place on his hairy face.

“ Six silver pennies, if you please Master dwarf,” The innkeeper told them with a kind smile on his round face.

Bofur took out a well-used leather pouch from a pocket inside his jacket and handed the innkeeper the stated amount. Receiving two slightly rusted keys and instructions on how to get to the stables and their rooms.

Bilbo smelt the fragrant scents of onions and warm bread wafting on the air, reminding him how empty his belly had gotten. As he was still unused to eating less than his seven meals a day, the very thought of food made his stomach give a loud, angry growl, loud enough that the dwarves paused their conversation of who would be bunking with whom and turned to him with surprised looks and raised eyebrows. Bilbo offered them a little embarrassed smile as an apology.

“Come on laddie,” the hatted dwarf said putting a heavily muscled arm around Bilbo’s slender shoulder and leading him back out to the dragons. “Lets get the kids settled for the night, then we can feast,” he finished with a wink. Bilbo followed a little stiffly not really sure how to respond to the physical touch.

The dragons were hardly kids, but they were smiling at the sentiment of being called such just the same. Mira gave Bilbo a wink and a mental nudge, letting him know it was ok to be touched by another. Bilbo relaxed as the dwarf at his side began to sing an old drinking song. It was one Bilbo had never heard so he figured it was just a dwarfish thing and hummed along.

The dragons trailed along behind the dwarves and horses as they all moved down the dark alley, making their way to the rear of the inn where the stables were kept. Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, watching as Mira and Sil spoke in low tones; Mira throwing back her head and letting out a thundering laugh. It made Bilbo’s heart glad to see his dragon truly enjoying herself. He turned back to the crooning dwarf hanging on his shoulders and giggled at the dwarf’s antics.

Bombur and Bifur stabled their horses, feeding them a healthy serving of oats before stripping the beasts of their gear and giving them a thorough brushing. That was the one thing Bilbo appreciated about having his dragon, he didn’t really need to brush her down or feed her. She did these things on her own; though giving her an occasional scrubbing was sometimes necessary.  

The room Bilbo finally made it to that night was bare in comparison to his bright bedroom at Bag End, it’s stark wood paneled walls leaving much to be desired. The only window sat on the opposite wall from the door, shrouded in faded floral print curtains that looked like they had seen one too many washings. Two single beds, each sat on opposite sides of the window. The only other things in the room were an antiquated chest of drawers and a washbasin stand that held a chipped white porcelain bowl, pitcher and an oval mirror.

It didn’t matter though, Bilbo was too tired to care what all was missing from the room. Shutting the door tight, he fell face first onto the nearest bed. It wasn’t his soft feather bed back in the shire but it would certainly do for the night. Decent beds would be few and far between once they traveled out into the wilds. It took Bilbo several minutes to finally move from the bed and make his way to the basin where he thoroughly scrubbed away the caked on dirt and old tear streaks. With a clean face, Bilbo staggered back to the bed exhausted, flinging back the covers and collapsing once more on to the bed. Sleep found him quickly. As he slept he dreamed of long black hair frosted with silver and icy blue eyes that cut to his soul.


	4. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the ones before, sorry about that. Also, again the Italics is a mental conversation. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> I am so happy and appreciative of all the feedback and response this story has gotten. I makes me do a happy dance with every notification I get! :)
> 
> xoxo
> 
> PS. Slight description of violence in this chapter, Be warned!!

Chapter 3

Discoveries

 

Bilbo raised his hand, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun and squinting as he focused on the dark shape of Weathertop rising on the horizon. The land around him swayed with the wind, the tall golden tan grass rippling and rolling like waves on the sea, an occasional screech from a hawk piercing the air as it circled the sky in search of  its next meal.

“We’ll be there by nightfall,” Bofur stated from next to him, lifting his own hand for shade and following Bilbo’s gaze.

The sun overhead was so hot it felt as though it wanted to sear the flesh from his bones. Bilbo pulled a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket, wiping the back of his neck and face.  “I’m not made for this heat,” Bilbo whined under his breath, instantly feeling Mira giggle inside his mind.

_“You just watch it Missy! Next time you’re uncomfortable, I’ll laugh at you!”_ He teased. The blasted dragon just laughed even harder!

Mira outwardly sniffed in a haughty fashion, though Bilbo could feel it was all for show. “There is very little that makes me uncomfortable, Little Hobbit,” She replied out loud, tossing her head as though she had a mane that needed adjusting.  

Sweat ran down his back in little streams and pooled at the dip of his spine sitting just above his rear. “I can’t wait until we get back into the trees. Oh to feel the coolness of the forest again!” He sighed, the image of tall trees and deep shade swam across his mind’s eye.

“Be careful of the forest, Bilbo. There are foul things that lurk in the deep places there,” Bofur warned with frightening surety.

“What kind of things?” Bilbo asked, turning his sunburned face toward the dwarf.

“Wolves and wargs mostly. Though it isn’t uncommon to find orcs riding the wargs. They’ll gut you as soon as look at you.”

Bofur’s answer sent chills down Bilbo’s spine. “Yeah, ok. I’ll stick close.”

They had only been out of Bree for two days, yet it felt more like weeks; weeks of endless dirt, grasslands and sweltering heat. The hours of the day passed as the sun made its journey across the sky.

By sunset the heat started to dissipate, making way for the chill of night. Weathertop had  been only a spot on the horizon for most of the day; now it rose tall, casting long shadows as the moon crept into the deepening sapphire sky and stars joined in the evening ritual of turning day to night, twinkling like diamonds.

The structure that sat upon the large mound of earth was now nothing more than skeletal remains of what use to be a watchtower. What once was used to give warning and fend off all manner of evil, now seemed to harbor it in its deep shadows and broken stones.

Camp was set up in a small alcove at the base and it was done quickly and quietly. No fire was built for fear of being spied from afar and danger creeping in under the cover of night. Bilbo curled under his blanket, crowding close to Mira for warmth and protection.

His sleep was greeted by images of dwarves and dragons carrying him away from the camp and dumping him in an empty black void. A menacing threat hovered just out of sight, hidden in the hazy darkness that lurked in the corners of Bilbo's mind, leaving only a pair of fiery golden eyes to leer back at him.

Bilbo sat up fast, chest tight, heart racing and breathe coming out in short bursts. He swallowed hard, trying his best to rid himself of the anger and hate he felt from the threat in his dream that now slid across his skin, leaving the hairs on his arms and neck standing on end. Mira shifted next to him, and he placed a hand on her side, working to even out his breathing.

Mira nuzzled his shoulder. _"Fear not little one, I'm here. I'm sorry I couldn't wake you sooner. Your mind was screaming, yet I couldn't rouse you from sleep."_

Bilbo nodded, leaning his forehead against her scaly side, eyes shut tight. _"Now sleep, I'll keep watch...over the camp and you."_

The muscles in his body relaxed , loosening their grip as Mira wrapped a shield around his troubled mind. He remained leaning against her until sleep returned to him, dreams nowhere to be found.

The rising sun, cresting above the distant eastern mountains, found Bilbo strapping his bedroll to Mira’s back. The scent of bacon and fried tomatoes wafted through the air, teasing his nose and beckoning him to the fire side. Bombur handed him a plate of food as soon as he was seated on the log next to Bofur. The meal was simple but filled his grumbling stomach just the same. Bilbo watched the dragons roam farther from the camp in search for food of their own.

“We’ll reach the outskirts of Rivendell in about two days’ time, if all goes well,” Bofur informed him between mouthfuls of food.

 

* * *

 

The day turned out cooler than the one before. Wispy clouds streaked the sky offering shade there hadn't been before. A couple of farms stood along the road, farmers and children plowing the fields while others worked around the house and yards. None offered Bilbo or his company any sign of acknowledgment.  The air shifted as a large row of hills began to rise up to meet them, the waving grasslands giving way to gnarled beech trees and rocks that spotted the landscape as they moved closer to the hills. Craggy outcroppings of shallow caves covered in twisted trees loomed over them, crowned by castles and towers built by men of old.

A stone bridge crossing the rushing River Hoarwell, set in a deep valley below, was all that separated them from the hills. Mist hung over the river and bridge, catching the sunlight and creating arching rainbows. The air hung wet and heavy here, soaking Bilbo through.

The company stopped at the start of the bridge. It was made of large gray river stones, each sat so tightly against its neighbors, no sign of grout could be seen. The crumbling edges of the bannister which ran the length of it, was the only thing showing the age of the structure.  

“I’ll take Sil across first. If it’s safe the rest of you follow,” Bofur announced, moving to the bridge.

“You be careful, Brother,” Bombur called from the rear of the group. Bofur gave him a tight nod, continuing on toward the middle of the bridge.

Butterflies fluttered about in Bilbo’s stomach, his lungs constricting and mouth drying. He clutched the back of Mira’s neck so tight his knuckles turned white. Mira’s mental touch brushed against his mind with a gentle caress, easing the nausea that rolled through him.

Bofur and Sil made it to the other side of the bridge with no trouble. Bilbo took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Mira began her trek across. He squeezed his eyes closed as they reached the midway point, feeling the mist settling heavier on his skin, making his hair damp. The river’s deafening roar drowned out all other sounds around him, forcing him to listen to the rapid beat of his own heart thumping in his ears.

“We made it, Bilbo,” Mira said, giving him a light mental nudge.

Opening his eyes and blinking, Bilbo looked around, seeing they now stood next to a large stand of grotesque beech trees, a stink catching his nose as a gust of wind whipped around him. The only problems the rest of the company experienced was Bifur’s pony rearing as they stepped off the bridge.

An hour before sundown, they neared a lone farm nestled against the edge of the trees. What used to be a house and barn were nothing but burnt rubble, leaving only the cobbled stone foundation intact. The grass and land surrounding the buildings were trampled and uprooted. Foreboding hung in the air, turning Bilbo’s stomach and making the ponies uneasy.

“Something is not right here,” Mira murmured in a deep voice, scanning the tree line with trepidation.

“We can’t go any farther tonight. It would be too dangerous. We’ll bed down here and leave first thing in the morning,” Bofur told them, jumping from Sil’s back and pulling his pack after him.

Bilbo slid from Mira, walked to where Bombur was arranging rocks for the evening fire, placing his pack next to a stump the sat near by and headed for the forest. _“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”_

_“Be careful. Something isn’t right here and I don’t want you hurt.”_ Mira replied with concern, fear and worry dripping from the words and right into Bilbo’s mind.

_“I will, love. Tell the others I’ll be right back.”_

The forest was damp and cold. The smell of moist earth and dying underbrush leaving the smell of decay hanging heavy in the dense air. The rocks and trees were covered in moss and lichen, making their surfaces slick and dangerous to traverse. Ferns the size of Bilbo’s torso fanned out over the forest floor, leaving hidden spaces beneath them. Some trees looked like they were old men, gnarled and knotted with age, while others splayed out, thin and wispy, like fingers reaching heavenward for light and space.

Bilbo made his way into the trees as far as he dared, taking care of the business he came for. As he buttoned himself up, he saw a flicker of light between gaps in the trees. Creeping toward it with all the hobbity stealth he possessed, Bilbo edged his way closer to the source. Around a large campfire, complete with roasting spit and boiling stewpot, sat two of the ugliest creatures Bilbo had ever seen.

Trolls! Ten feet tall, scabby, warted trolls arguing over whether they were having mutton or “west nags”. Bilbo held his breath, moving backward as quickly and quietly as possible. A branch snapped under his foot. He froze in place. From behind him, he heard the trees crashing, the ground shaking, and then was snatched up, hanging upside down by his ankle.

“And what is this? An oversized squirrel?” A booming voice said above him.

“Well?” demanded his troll captor. Bilbo wiggled about trying desperately to think of some way to get loose. “I-I’m a Keeper--uhh, Hobbit,” Bilbo sputtered out, starting to feel a little dizzy from hanging the way he was.  

“A keeper-Hobbit?” asked the troll that sat next to the fire, wearing an apron and stirring the pot.

The troll still holding him lifted him higher to take a long sniff of him. Bilbo shrieked, arms flailing with renewed vigor, working desperately to free himself. Before he could brace himself, Bilbo was dropped next to the apron clad troll.

“Can we eat it?”

The cooking troll swiped a huge hand down in Bilbo’s direction to grab him, missing by inches as Bilbo leapt away. He turned to run but was caught by a third troll. This troll seemed to have a cold sniffling and wiping his nose continuously.

“Bill, he won’t make more than a mouthful, not when he’s skinned and boned!” the snotty troll said to the cook. Bilbo continued to fight its crushing grip, air becoming harder to pull into his lungs and spots marring his vision.

“Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?” asked the larger troll that had first grabbed Bilbo. “Put his toes over the fire if he doesn’t talk, Bert. Make him squeal!”

The sick troll giggled with glee, moving to do just as he was told, sniffling as he did.

“NO! there aren’t any others. I swear!” Bilbo pleaded with the last of his strength.

“He’s lying,” growled Bill, his voice sounding like stone grinding against stone.

Bilbo shook his head fervently, trying to make them understand. His vision swam, darkness creeping in on him. It was in the last few moments of consciousness that Bilbo saw over the shoulder of the troll holding him, a dragon so odd it was hard for him to grasp. It was a dragon without scales, just mounds of gray matter that made it look like a pile of stones. It sat quietly, watching.

_“MIRA!_ ” Bilbo screamed, hoping his dragon could feel him from this distance. _“Dragon………”_

* * *

Bilbo woke to the sound of trees splintering and snapping, shaking the earth as they fell. The trolls stood frozen, staring silently in the direction of the noise.  He shivered where he now lie, tied in a sack, under the troll dragon’s watchful eyes, its rocky face never moving, but its black, bead-like eyes shifting to and fro, taking in every movement, every shadow, every sound.

Bursting from the trees with a roar that made him wince, Bilbo watched as Mira and Sil lept forward, wings spread, nostrils flaring and sharp teeth bared, glinting in the moon light. At the sudden appearance of the other dragons, the troll’s dragon lifted one boulder sized paw, talons splayed and laid it over Bilbo, pinning him to the ground. He was thankful the dragon kept its hold light.  

“LET HIM GO!” Mira snarled, her body quivering with pent up rage. Sil stood next to her, issuing a low, deep growl.

“You what?” Tom asked, scowling at the pair.

Mira drew herself up, answering in a frighteningly calm voice: “I said, Let. Him. Go.”

Bill snorted from his place by the stew pot. "Not bloody likely."

The sniffling troll grabbed Bilbo from his spot under the dragon's claws, and tossed him into the air like a rag doll. Bilbo let out a piercing scream, the ground rushing toward him. Before he reached it, he was swept out of the sky, held close to Sil’s warm chest.

Once the dragon rolled to a stop, he laid Bilbo to the side of the dirt ring that surrounded the fire. Bilbo coughed as the dirt was kicked up, watching as Sil launched himself at the troll’s dragon, snapping, scratching and biting as they tumbled about in a knot of teeth and limbs.

Mira crowded the trolls against a large granite boulder, sitting back on her haunches with wings stretched wide and scales radiating an emerald light that grew in intensity. An odd rustling from the under brush built to a slight tremor. Bilbo's eyes widened as he witnessed three saplings walk out of the tree line, making their way to his dragon’s side, their vines twisting and coiling behind them. The saplings stopped in front of the quivering trolls, their vines wrapped the struggling trolls in a vice like grip, yelps falling from their lips as they were squeezed tight. Mira let out a roar so low, Bilbo almost didn’t hear it. The vibration of it though, could be felt shaking the ground. The young trees dug their exposed roots deep into the earth, reaching out their branches to wind around the trolls in an embrace from which there would be no return. The trees grew large and fast, braiding and wrapping until nothing was visible but their pregnant trunks; three fully grown trees standing in the small clearing like sentinels.

A snarl pulled Bilbo’s attention away from the trees and back to the fighting dragons. Sil whipped his head to the left, avoiding an attempted bite and sank his razor sharp teeth into the other dragon’s neck, snapping it in two.

The sight of the dying and bleeding dragon tore at Bilbo’s heart, tears spilling down his face.

Bilbo curled in on himself clenching his eyes shut,  as silence settled over the clearing. A warm snout nudged him softly, causing him to scream and scurry away from it . Mira swam into focus as he took deep calming breaths, his heart a terrified rabbit trying to break free from his chest.

“Be still, love. Nothing will hurt you, I promise,” Mira said in a soft voice. She snapped her head to look behind her as the dwarves barreled out of the underbrush,  Bofur swinging his mining maddock, Bombur wielding a massive ladle and Bifur hefting his long boar’s spear, ready to put it to use.

“Would one of you please help him out of this sack?” she asked, addressing the dwarves as they moved closer.

Bifur stepped forward, pulling out a square tipped knife and set about cutting the rope that held Bilbo’s sack closed.

Bilbo shrugged off the burlap, kicking it into the fire. “Thank you,” he told the dwarf softly.

Mira stepped closer to him, making Bilbo take a step back without thinking. She stopped short and bowed her head. _“Are you ok little one? Are you hurt anywhere?”_

Bilbo shook his head, wandering over to the three trees, Mira following him at a distance. He ran his fingers over the trunks, marveling at the magic thrumming through it. Bilbo turned to Mira. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know little one. I heard your call for help in my head and I came running. Sil saw me take off so he followed me. As soon as I jumped out of the trees I felt the strangest sensation building inside me just behind my heart. I didn’t try to stop it,” she explained excitedly, “and this is what happened.”

“Do you think this is one of those gifts Sil was talking about?” He asked, making his way back through the trees and avoiding the sight of the deceased dragon. Thanks to the path Mira and Sil had made coming to his rescue, it didn’t take Bilbo long to make it back to camp. A much smaller fire burned merrily, welcoming him and the company back to safety. Bilbo laid out his bedroll, taking a seat and waiting for the rest of them to arrive.

“Maybe,” Mira replied, curling up next to him.

The dwarves and Sil showed up minutes later, Bombur went back to the bubbling pot that hung over the flames while Bofur and Bifur sat on their respective bedrolls. Bombur brought over a bowl of steaming stew. At any other time, it would have smelled divine, but at the moment the scent turned his stomach.

“Eat Master Hobbit, even if you don’t feel like it. It will help you sleep.” The large dwarf said.   He went back to his pot and then served the others.

Bilbo looked down at the stew, rabbit he figured, confirming this assumption with the first bite. Once the stew was gone he placed the empty bowl aside to take care of in the morning, he pulled his blanket up over his shoulders and snuggled deep in the covers. Mira scooted closer, resting her head above his and wrapping her pointed tail around him.

_“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. I’m just so confused and scared.”_ Bilbo sent his love as well as his fear over their bond, hoping she would know what to do.

_“I know little one. I am scared and confused as well. Maybe we’ll find someone who can tell us what happened. But for now, sleep well love.”_

Bilbo moved closer to her, closing his eyes tight, praying sleep would come quick and deep.  


	5. The Misty Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I am so sorry that there was no preview posted this week for this chapter. I want to let you all know that the next chapter will be in about 2 weeks. All other chapters after this will likely be on a every two weeks update schedule as that is about how long it takes me to write and edit each chapter satisfactorily. Also I am sorry this is shorter than normal, it needed to end where it did for story line reasons.
> 
> BE WARNED!! This chapter will contain graphic descriptions of violence and gore.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left me kudos, subs, bookmarks and especially comments (those keep me motivated :) )
> 
> enjoy everyone!!

 

Chapter 4

The Misty Mountains

 

On the seventh day following their encounter with the trolls, they set up camp for the night in a small group of trees at the base of The High Pass into the Misty Mountains.

The stress of the journey weighed heavily on Bilbo’s shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he slid from Mira’s back, landing with wobbly legs on the leaf covered ground. Bilbo stretched and yawned, rubbing his bottom, trying to work the feeling back into it. “Will any of you be needing help?”

Bombur dropped from his pony, landing hard on his ass with a resounding “Umph!” Grabbing the saddle’s stirrup, he hauled himself to his feet, brushing leaves and twigs from his trousers as he looked toward Bilbo. “Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. I’ll be needing some stones for the fire.”

Bilbo’s shoulders drooped. He hung his head, letting out a long, breathy sigh. “Yeah, okay. Be back in a few.” He went into the forest and returned shortly thereafter, carrying a large armful of grey stones. He tipped them noisily onto the ground near a neatly stacked pile of wood.

Bofur arranged the stones in a circle, building a small fire within it. Bombur placed a pot full of water, root vegetables and meat over the open flame, while Bifur occupied himself with his whittling. 

Bilbo pulled out his bedroll, and laying it near the fire, he sat heavily upon it. He extended his hands toward the crackling flames, soaking in their warmth. Mira padded over to him, lying at his back. He reclined against her, her body heat relaxing the tense, coiling muscles along his spine.

It didn’t take long for the pot to boil, releasing savory fumes into the night air. Bilbo sniffed the aroma, his empty stomach grumbling with anticipation. 

Bomber checked the stew for doneness before ladling out healthy servings into metal bowls.

A bowl was thrust in Bilbo’s direction, and reaching out he took the hot container gingerly. ”Thank you,” he mumbled.  

Everyone sat close to the fire, eating in exhausted silence. Once every bowl had been scraped and every morsel of food consumed, they climbed wearily into to their respective bedrolls and found sleep quickly.

 

* * *

 

The path into the mountains was steep and narrow. Pebbles and loose rock littered the pathway. BIlbo looked over the edge of the trail, following the path of a falling stone as it bounced off the ravine walls. Fear knotted Bilbo’s stomach, and he pulled back, clutching desperately to Mira’s neck.

The higher they climbed the darker the sky grew. Clouds gathered , threatening to spill their contents on the weary travelers. A biting gust of wind sent gooseflesh spreading over Bilbo’s skin. Shivering, he pulled his coat tighter around him. _“It’s getting cold!”_ he thought to Mira.

Mira moved closer to him, lowering her head to shield him. _“It will only get colder little one.”_

A bright flash ripped open the sky, cutting a jagged tear across a heavy cloud and splitting it open. Rain poured hard and heavy, rushing down the path toward them as though some unknown hand had opened a dam at the top of the mountain, trying to wash the interlopers away from its sacred abode. The horses neighed and whickered, snorting their disapproval and bucking at every thunderclap, shying from every lightning bolt.

A streak of lightning split the air, punching the side of the mountain. The ground shook from the force of it.

A shot of adrenaline rushed through Bilbo’s body, the hairs on his arms and neck standing on end. He snapped his head up, looking at a rocky overhang above them where the lightning had struck.  The rock face crumbled, losing a massive boulder that hurled down the mountain. Bilbo jumped back, plastering himself to the sheer mountainside.

The boulder tumbled straight for them, the ground rumbling in its wake. Broken rock shard showered down upon them.

Fear spiked Bilbo’s blood, a shriek escaped his gaping mouth. Mira and Sil covered Bilbo and Bofur as much as possible, their wings covering their heads, warding off the raining stones.  

Picking up speed, it lept from the mountainside, just missing the troupe, and then careened into the ravines dark abyss.

Bilbo’s stomach fluttered and chest tightened. He reached out with shaking hands to touch Mira, making sure she was okay. When he found no injuries he felt the tightness of his chest ease.  

Bofur stood close to Sil at the head of the group, running his hand down the dragon’s neck and shoulders. Bilbo’s heart rate picked when he thought of the other dragon being hurt. He cleared his throat several time to make his voice clear. “WE NEED TO GET OFF THE MOUNTAIN!” He yelled over the wind.

They picked up their pace as much as the wet, slippery path would allow. Bofur signaled from up a head. To the left tucked into a curve in the mountain sat the entrance to a cave large enough for all of them.

They passed the low hanging entrance, rushing through a cold sheet of water pouring over it. Bilbo’s ears rang in the silence that greeted him on the other side. He stood shivering in his drenched clothes, huddled close to Mira, sharing in her warmth.

Bofur and Bifur lit one of the unbroken lanterns. The lamplight cast itself across the stony surfaces, revealing a flat, sand covered floor and hard walls glistening with earthen moisture. They  scouted to the back of the cave, making certain anything unsavory did not lurk in the dark, waiting to spring out at them while they slept.

Uneasy knots gathered in Bilbo’s stomach at the thought of some grotesque creature sharing their space. He watched their progress exploring the cave’s rear.

They returned wearing relieved expressions. “All clear,” Bofur said, his words acting like a soothing balm on Bilbo’s nerves.

 

* * *

 

Long after their lantern went  out, Bilbo’s fitful sleep was interrupted by the sound of stone sliding across stone.  He opened his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the darkness. Harsh whispers and muffled conversations came in indistinct breaths from the rear of the cave. Terror shot arrow-like through Bilbo’s body, sharp and burning. Breathless, he tapped Bofur on the arm, doing his best to stay as silent as possible.

_Mira! Wake up. I think there’s someone in the cave with us!_

Goblins scurried into the cavern from a hidden stone door in the back wall  like rodents, scurrying and squawking, elbowing each other for prime positions around the travelers. Their crudely made weapons and armor clanked noisily, adding to the cacophony rising in the small room.

Bilbo’s heart exploded in his chest. He jumped to his feet, calling out over the jumbled noise, “Mira!”

She didn’t answer.

Bilbo’s heart dropped into his stomach at the lack of reply. Turning, he was just in time see Mira send a goblin crashing into the wall.

They were rounded up and pushed through a door and into a  dark tunnel behind one of the cave walls that, when closed, became invisible. Bilbo clung to Mira as they marched, listening to her growl at any goblins that came near him. The passage opened up to a torch lit cavern, rusted fire pits along the path belching thick black smoke that choked Bilbo and brought tears to his eyes. The wooden slats beneath their feet creaked and moaned threatening a sheer drop into oblivion with each complaint. Hordes of goblins shouted from rocky plateaus as they passed, their weapons winking in the dull light while their wingless dragons stood sentry beside them.

They were jostled to a halt in front of a massively proportioned goblin, his bald head adorned by a crown made of brick a brack,. Festering welts oozed sickly green liquid across his mottled, scabbed and wart ridden skin.

The creature made a noise at them that might have been a laugh were it not for the sickening sound of it, echoing throughout the chamber and reverberating deep inside Bilbo’s chest.

“And what’s this? Ants sneaking into my mountain to steal from me?” The Goblin King questioned with a sneer curling his lip. “THIEVES! MURDERERS!”

The much smaller goblins holding them jumped up and down excitedly at their king’s words.

“There _is_ someone who would pay a pretty penny for your head,” the great goblin crooned, sliding his swollen body from a throne made of granite. He swaggered his way to Bilbo.

His putrescent stench, an odor of sulphur mixing with death and rotted meat, hung miasma-like around him. Bilbo bit back the bile rising to his gorge, leaning away.

“Though I do believe it is more than your head he’ll be wanting,” the goblin continued, running a yellow encrusted fingernail down the front of Bilbo’s body.

Bilbo shuddered at the touch.

“Send a message to the Great Dragon that we have caught his prize,” he called out, his beady red rimmed eyes never leaving Bilbo or Mira.

Goblin hands gripped Mira and Sil, twisting heavy ropes around them. They flew at their attackers, Sil belching jets of fire, searing and burning all in his path. Mira thrashed, whipping her wings out and knocking surprised goblins and their sickly dragons over the edge of the walkway.

One fearless goblin rose up before her and she slashed out at him. Her talons cut into the creature like a hot knife through butter, spilling his wrong-colored blood onto the stone path, entrails splattering to the ground.

More of the wingless dragons slithered from the shadowy recesses, charging toward them with violent screeching. Sil snatched the closest goblin dragon. He pinned it down with his front legs, ripping its throat out with a single bite. Another came at Mira from behind, meeting her bladed tail’s deadly end through its gullet, its black blood spraying across her back.

Mira put herself between the throne and Bilbo, urging him and the three dwarves toward the exit with her body. “GO! Get out of here!”.

Mira’s shove caught Bilbo off guard. He lost his balance and tumbled backward onto a pile of broken, discarded weapons. Reaching out to brace himself, he landed on his backside with a thud. One hand met a smooth sword hilt. His fingers curled reflexively around the grip.

Bilbo pushed himself to his feet and launched forward. He grabbed Bofur by the hand and tugged him along. They got several feet from the fighting dragons when their way was blocked by the Goblin King’s menacing bulk.

“And where do you think _you’re_ going?” the goblin snarled.

They skidded to a halt. Bilbo tightened his grip on the sword, letting Bofur’s hand fall. Red hot anger rose up in him. The memory of dragon flesh rolling against his tongue and a vision of spraying blood flashed from Mira’s mind to Bilbo’s. He roared with his dragon’s voice, launching himself at the Goblin King.

Leaping onto his massive gut, Bilbo sank his blade deep into to the goblin’s neck. A gurgling, hissing sound spewed from the creature’s mouth. Bilbo twisted the blade, taking a faceful of foul scented blood. Something hard severed and separated from the rest of the goblin’s body, the evil light dancing in his eyes winking out.

Bilbo jumped down next to Bofur, watching as the mass of dead flesh tipped to the side. The former Goblin King fell lifeless into the chasm below, leaving the path clear. Pounding feet thundered behind them.

Bilbo spun where he stood to face the oncoming threat, thrusting his sword out in front of him, ready for the next attack.

Mira and Sil rushed toward them, followed by a mob of screeching goblins with rage filled eyes. Bifur grabbed Bilbo by the arm.

**“Inkhi!”** the dwarf growled, giving his arm a sharp tug with a fierce look in his eyes.

They ran along the winding paths, dodging the goblins and dragons that slunk from the cracks and crevices in the mountain.

A goblin lept at Bilbo from one of the side tunnels, barely missing his throat. A shriek escaped his lips. Bilbo lept to the side, sinking his blade hilt deep in its stomach. Knocking it off the edge of the path, he continued running.

The dwarves lead them expertly through the mountain until the exit loomed ahead like a beacon of hope in the night. Several goblins guarded the door, snarling when the group came into view.

Mira and Sil shoved past Bilbo and the dwarves, eyes intent on the goblins. The two worked quickly, slashing and tearing the guards to pieces.

Disgust rolled in Bilbo’s stomach. He spared the carnage a fleeting glance, grimacing as he dashed past and out into the fresh air.  

They stumbled to a stop some distance from the door, taking deep breaths and savoring the lack of stench in their nostrils.

A piercing screech tore the quiet pre dawn air. Bilbo snapped his head up, turning to look back the way they had came. A horde of murderous goblins swarmed down the hillside.

Terror shot through his veins. He pitched forward, stumbling over exposed roots and loose rocks, and picking up speed. “RUN!” he yelled.

A cliff loomed ahead of them, forcing them to slide to a stop.

“Come on, up you go. Hang on tight, you too Bofur.” Mira ordered.

Knots twisted in Bilbo’s stomach, his breath coming out in shallow pants. He scrambled onto her back. Bofur swung himself onto Mira, wrapping muscled arms tightly around Bilbo’s waist.

Mira took a galloping leap off the cliff, Bilbo’s stomach ramming itself in into his throat forcing out a scream. He slammed his eyes shut, clutching Mira’s neck with an iron grip, the wind rushing cold and clear at his face.

Bilbo felt his stomach return to normal. He peeked one eye open, catching sight of Sil, gliding smoothly through the air beside them, Bombur and Bifur throwing them a friendly wave.


End file.
